


Toss a Sickle

by FloreatCastellum



Series: Slice of Life One-Shots [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brain Damage, Gen, Post-War, Prophecy, Truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 15:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20641511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloreatCastellum/pseuds/FloreatCastellum
Summary: Neville is visiting his parents after the battle, unaware that Harry is about to visit and tell him how different his life could have been.





	Toss a Sickle

He and Gran had gone to St Mungos to visit them. ‘To tell them we won, and that it wouldn’t have happened without you,’ Gran had said, but of course Neville knew that they wouldn’t know. He would just be happy if either of them managed to say any words today, even if it didn’t make sense. He’d be thrilled if they managed to string together any sentences. They went through peaks and troughs like that, and maybe if they sensed that Gran was very pleased, they would be too. 

‘Hello,’ he said to them, leaning over the bed to try and catch his mother’s eyes. She turned her head, and opened her mouth as though surprised, blinking at him. Sometimes he convinced himself that there was recognition there, but she probably did that with every Healer that came along. She was just pleased to get a visitor. He could be anyone. 

Dad was much the same, though he was sitting up, rolling gobstones across the tray on his lap, transfixed. 

‘Hello, Frank!’ Gran said loudly and clearly. His head bobbed in acknowledgment, but he didn’t look up or give any indication that he was aware his mother and son were in the room. 

Neville looked back at his mother. ‘Would you like some tea?’ he asked her. 

She gaped at him for a long while, and he waited patiently. Eventually, she gave a soft, ‘ooh’ of anticipation, and he smiled at her. He fetched her a cup - he had to cool it with his wand slightly before he gave it to her, because the mug had a lid, and she had to drink it through a straw, because her hands trembled sometimes. 

Gran loudly told his parents about his glorious deeds in battle, and he only half listened, searching their faces for any kind of reaction. It was when Gran said, ‘and they’ve offered him a position as an Auror - fast tracked!’ that there seemed to be something. 

At the word Auror, Frank looked up at his mother, and stared at her for a moment, as though he were going to say something. 

‘Neville, Frank,’ Gran said loudly. ‘Your son. He’s going to be an Auror - just like you.’ 

Frank stared, his head bobbing slightly, and then turned back to his gobstones. Neville turned and beamed at his grandmother, who smiled proudly back. 

‘He recognised that word.’ 

‘He did, didn’t he?’ She looked over at Alice, still sitting up in her bed, sucking tea up through a straw and gazing into the middle distance. ‘Did you hear that, Alice, dear? Neville is going to be an Auror.’ Neville gave his mother a little wave, and she gave him a polite smile back. His heart soared. 

It could often be very tiring, visiting his parents, because he often felt very guilty about how bored he was. He never really knew what to say to them, especially because most times they simply stared back and he had no idea what was going on in their brains. He sometimes found himself naturally using a voice you would use with toddlers, and then he would worry that they could understand perfectly, and just couldn’t speak, and perhaps felt patronised or upset. 

But this time he had things to say, he had news to share with them, so he did so freely, and conversationally, and while most of the time it was clear that their minds had drifted, back to the gobstones or away to stare up at the ceiling, sometimes they seemed to look at him with something similar to attentiveness. 

‘Erm…’ said Alice, after a little while, opening her mouth as though about to say something. 

‘Yes?’ asked Neville, leaning forward and grasping her hand. Her eyes were moving slightly, as though thinking hard.

He had about given up, when she spoke again. ‘Not to be biased,’ she said, looking faintly amused. 

‘Biased about what, dear?’ Gran asked. 

But Alice looked at her as though she had forgotten that she had said anything at all. Then she yawned widely, and nestled back onto her pillows. 

Gran sighed heavily. ‘Thought we might have had something there,’ she said.

‘Hmm,’ said Neville noncommittally. He wondered, for the millionth time, whether the words got jumbled in his parents thoughts, or only when they tried to speak. Was all sense gone, or were the connections just a little confused? 

Having now experienced, many times, a taste of what they had been through, he tried to think back to the moments after, where he had been confused and muddled. It had only ever been brief, and only ever been very slight, but it had sometimes felt like everything was very thick and slow, like every thought had to fight its way through treacle. It had been very tiring too, so no wonder his mother was now drifting into sleep - stringing those four little words together, no matter what she had meant behind them, no matter where the rest of the sentence might have led, no matter if she had been thinking of something completely mad, would have been utterly exhausting. 

Far easier to just listen, and watch the swirls of colour in the gobstones as they rolled, like Frank. 

The doors of the ward opened, but neither Neville nor Gran looked over, well used to Healers and admin staff bustling in and out. It was only when Neville sensed someone approaching them hesitantly, that he glanced up, and saw, to his surprise, Harry. 

‘Sorry to intrude,’ he said, awkwardly. ‘I was told you would be here, and I…’ 

‘It’s good to see you,’ said Gran fiercely. ‘How are you? A strange few days for you, I suppose?’ 

Harry smiled weakly. ‘Rather strange, yes. Neville, could we have a quick word? I know it’s not the best time to pull you aside, but I-’

‘If this is about the Auror thing, I gave my decision this morning, I’m doing it-’

‘That’s great, but no, it’s not about that, it’s-’

‘Oh!’ said Frank’s voice, unusually alert as he looked up. ‘Hullo, James.’ 

Neville, Gran and Harry all froze, staring at Frank with amazement. Neville saw Harry glance at him, but Neville didn’t know what to do any more than Harry did. 

‘Hello, Frank,’ he said back uneasily. ‘How are you?’ 

But Frank just looked back at his gobstones, rolling loudly against the wooden tray, leaving the rest of them in silence. 

‘S-sorry,’ said Harry with a nervous glance to Neville and Gran. ‘I wasn’t sure what-’

‘Don’t apologise,’ said Neville, who felt a hungry kind of excitement, ‘that was really good.’ 

‘He hasn’t recognised me since my hair went grey,’ said Gran. ‘Look like your father, do you? I never met him.’ 

‘Yes,’ said Harry, who still looked distinctly uncomfortable. ‘Quite similar.’

Neville rose quickly, because it looked like his grandmother was about to demand that Harry come in and visit regularly, or perhaps tell him to wake Mum and see if she recognised him too. ‘What was it you wanted to chat about, Harry? Shall we go and get a coffee?’ Harry nodded, and Neville promised his grandmother he would be back soon. 

But they did not go to the hospital cafe - Neville got the impression that Harry wanted this to be a private conversation, so was not surprised in the slightest when they ducked into an empty private room, the type they moved people to when they were about to die. 

Neville leaned against the hospital bed there, and Harry stood before him, looking unsure and uncomfortable again. 

‘I’m sorry to interrupt you here,’ Harry said again, running his hand through his hair. ‘If I could have waited, I would have done.’ 

‘Sounds ominous,’ said Neville lightly. 

Harry winced. ‘I’ve… I’ve agreed to an interview. To establish some facts before the story can get too twisted… And because I think people deserve to know… At least the outline of the truth.’ 

Neville nodded. ‘Good. I was hoping you would. Not just because I want to know, but…’ he held up his hands in a vague, almost shrugging gesture. ‘Potterwatch. The D.A. That interview you did in fifth year. It’s good to make people listen.’ 

Harry nodded again, but was now looking down at his feet. ‘I had to tell you now, because I only agreed to it this morning and didn’t realise it would mean going on air this afternoon.’ 

‘Blimey,’ said Neville, though he was not sure why Harry was telling him this. 

‘I… There’s a part of it all, a part of the story… I thought it would be best if you heard it directly from me first… Rather than piecing it together later, or someone else… like your gran… working it out.’ 

Neville gave him a small smile. ‘Should I be sitting down?’ he asked lightly. 

‘Yes, I think so,’ said Harry quietly. 

Neville frowned, but nodded, and dutifully pulled out a visitors chair and sat, watching Harry closely. 

‘So… Obviously you know there was a prophecy.’ 

‘I’d pieced it together, yeah,’ said Neville. 

Harry recited the prophecy to Neville, who listened carefully, but continued to frown. 

‘All right… But I don’t see what-’

‘It could’ve applied to you,’ said Harry, his voice level and quiet. 

There was a long silence. ‘Sorry?’ said Neville eventually, staring at Harry with his mouth slightly agape. 

‘You were born at the end of July too. And your parents also defied Voldemort three times, according to Dumbledore. They went into hiding the same as my parents, because they didn’t know which of us it applied to.’ 

Neville felt as though he were spinning. 

‘But when Voldemort gave me my scar, it was him marking me as an equal - he chose me, and from then on the prophecy only related to me.’ 

‘But… He could have chosen me instead?’ 

‘He could have, yeah,’ said Harry. 

Neville could not look at Harry. He turned his eyes away, looking at the painting of a bunch of flowers on the wall. ‘You must hate me,’ he said at last. 

‘What?’ asked Harry, clearly baffled. ‘No-’

‘All of this, everything that’s happened, it could have all been me instead, but he, I don’t know, tossed a sickle or something-’

‘No, Neville-’

‘When did you know?’ Neville demanded. ‘Not… not then? Not when we went to the Department of Mysteries?’

Harry seemed to hesitate, and then, ‘yes, Dumbledore told me that evening-’

‘Merlin, you must have spent the whole of sixth year detesting me-’

‘Of course I didn’t,’ said Harry, rather sharply. ‘Neville, he chose me, but…’ Harry seemed to take a steadying breath. ‘But that was why Bellatrix Lestrange and the others came after your parents. They thought that they might know… what had happened. Why Voldemort had gone.’ 

Neville looked back to the door, as though expecting to see his parents wander in, dreamlike and smiling absent-mindedly. ‘Oh,’ he said. He had always wondered why it had happened a week after Voldemort had fell. Gran had always said it was the Death Eater’s last, reckless stand, doing as much damage as they could because they knew the end was there. 

The enormity of it all seemed to root him to his chair, grasping at him and squeezing until he couldn’t think of any words, let alone form them. 

‘That prophecy… it ruined things for both of us,’ said Harry. ‘I’ve never resented you. I’ve never envied you. I’m only telling you so it didn’t come as a shock to realise it through the wireless.’ 

Neville swallowed, and breathed heavily. ‘Right,’ he said with a sigh. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Harry muttered.

Neville tried for a wry smile. ‘Thank goodness he picked you, eh? War would have been over before it started if it had been me. Wouldn’t have lasted half the time you did.’ 

‘Sure you would have,’ said Harry, and to Neville’s mild surprise he was smiling slightly too. ‘Point of the prophecy, really, wasn’t it? Whoever he marked as an equal… Would have got him in the end.’ He tilted his head as he considered. ‘And… You did, in the end, didn’t you? Killed Nagini. Essentially told him to fuck off in front of everyone. He probably thought he’d picked the wrong baby in that moment.’ 

Neville stared at him for a moment, and then at Harry’s slight grin, spluttered with shocked laughter. ‘You’re a better man than me, Harry,’ he said. ‘I’d have gone mad with resentment.’ 

Harry shook his head, and Neville saw his eyes stray to the door too. ‘No, I… I reckon in some ways I’ve had the easier lot. I’m… I’m sorry your dad seemed to sort of recognise me. I think that would have upset me, if it had been me.’ 

‘Honestly, I’m just… so happy when he manages to speak,’ said Neville. ‘When I get a little glimpse of who he is. Used to be more in the early days, when he’d recognise people in the family sometimes, and Gran, but as everyone’s aged, both of them just… Haven’t been able to keep up.’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ said Harry gently. 

‘I still get to see them,’ said Neville. ‘Some of them. Count myself lucky.’

Harry was looking at him with a strange expression - Neville could have mistaken it for being impressed, or admiration. 

‘How different things could have been,’ said Neville. 

Harry nodded, and his lips quivered into a mild smile. ‘I… er… I think we would have been childhood friends. Our parents knew each other through the Order, they were friends.’ 

‘I wonder what we would have been like.’ 

‘I wonder that too.’ 

They returned to the ward where Frank and Alice lived. Neville hoped that Harry might spark something else in his father, or maybe his mother, who had woken again and was now shuffling by the windowsill. But Frank said nothing, and though Alice stared with a slight frown at Harry, after a few moments she approached Neville. 

She held out her hand, and Neville took the chocolate frog wrapper from her. ‘Thank you,’ he said. 

Alice’s face smiled at him, but then her eyelids drooped, and she returned to bed.


End file.
